


Red Is The Warmest Color

by giggy_milkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Related, Disabled Character, Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggy_milkovich/pseuds/giggy_milkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick one-shot, featuring a visually impaired Mickey Milkovich spending a lazy afternoon with his best friend Ian Gallagher (not yet established as boyfriends)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Is The Warmest Color

**Author's Note:**

> I may/may not keep this story going, so please let me know what you think!

As his breathing slowly returned to its normal pace, he could feel Ian’s gentle fingers stroking his bare chest, now beaded in sweat, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve him. It was obvious that a guy like Ian could have anyone he wanted—had likely been offered exactly that—and yet here he was, warm and shaky limbs cradled around the smaller boy’s body as he sank deeper into the pillows.

 

Ian breathed in Mickey’s scent, his face nestling in the crook of his neck. “You okay?” he asked against his skin, concern slowly creeping into his thoughts.

 

Mickey placed his arm on top of the one Ian had left lazily wrapped around his stomach, joining their hands and tightening the grip. “Course I am.” He surrendered a quiet breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, releasing with it any doubts he’d had about his feelings for the boy pinned to his back. He remembered how terrified he’d been to touch him like this, to feel the heat of the blood coursing through his chest and the exhausted _thump thump thump_ of Ian’s pulse reverberating on his own neck where he currently lay resting. For once, he was thankful that he was gay, finding comfort in their similar parts now tangled together beneath the thin sheet, like the abandoned sneakers that hung looped over the cable wires lining their block. They were also abandoned things in their own right, left to fend for themselves and figure out what they were.

 

He could still feel the now faint current of anxious energy and adrenaline snaking down his legs and entwining with Ian’s. Everything Mickey had once kept deep within himself was now Ian’s. _As it should be,_ he thought to himself. He’d known the younger boy for years but had been too stubborn to admit what he knew was right in front of him. Secure in Ian’s embrace, he wished he’d seen the light sooner, but his eyes weren’t the only thing blind to him.

 

Cautiously, Mickey loosened the grip he had on the boy, turning himself around to meet him face to face. Ian kept his arm firm around the older boy’s waist, pressing them together and mending their broken bodies. Mickey could’ve sworn that the hair along their happy trails had sparked, igniting both of them. He lifted a hand and carefully felt out the hills and valleys of Ian’s abdomen, taut and toned from months of ROTC classes and push-ups on the rough carpet of his childhood bedroom. His hand continued its journey farther north, dipping in between his pecks to rest in his sternum. Ian released a involuntary shiver from underneath his touch and Mickey lifted his hand, immediately fearing that he’d made the boy uncomfortable. Before Mickey had the chance to respond, Ian grabbed his hand and held it against his own lips, brushing Mickey’s fingertips across the sensitive skin while tracing the outline of his smile. Now it was Mickey’s turn to shiver as Ian kissed each finger before placing the hand back down, this time closer to his heart. Mickey could still make out the _thump thump_ that lay below, the speed slightly faster now and matching closely with his own.

 

He felt exposed held against him like this, the vibration from inside Ian’s chest growing steadier with each inhale. He tried to memorize the pattern, run it through both of them like extension cord. He didn’t dare pull away this time. 

 

“Hey, uh, can I ask you something? And you gotta be honest,” Mickey asked with a twinge of nervousness. He could feel Ian tense slightly at the unexpected question.

 

“Hm?” Ian said, momentarily lost in sensation. “Yeah, shoot,” Ian replied casually.

 

Mickey sighed, pushing back the embarrassment that was already bubbling up his throat. He had been curious for far longer than he could now handle. A quiet smirk spread across his face. “Why the fuck they call you Firecrotch?”

 

Ian stiffened and sat up on his elbows, unusually taken off-guard by the all-too-familiar nickname he’d had his whole life now escaping the lips of Mickey Milkovich. He looked down at Mickey’s face quizzically only to be met with genuine curiosity painted across his features, dark eyebrows furrowed and pondering. He chuckled at his own stupidity as he finally registered why the name would, _of course_ , make no sense to the boy laying beside him. He closed the distance between their bodies again and raised a hand to graze the back of Mickey’s head, fingers scratching lazily through his black tresses.

 

He softly chuckled some more before responding, “It’s, uh, it’s just the color of my hair, Mick. I’m a redhead.”

 

Mickey nodded his head in mock understanding, as he still had no idea what that actually meant. He did recall his mother reading him Archie comics as a kid, stories about the popular ginger teenager and his endless adventures. If Archie looked anything like Ian, Mickey knew he’d struck gold; before she died a few years ago, his mother would always call him Jughead—the sarcastic, dark haired best friend to the star redhead. “So, you’re telling me your hair’s flamin’ up here…” he reached out to run his fingers across the taller boy’s scalp and through the longer strands at the front of his head. “... _and_ by your dick?” He erupted into laughter and moved his hand lower down Ian’s body, only to be greeted with a friendly slap across his knuckles. Mickey nudged him softly in the ribs as payback. His brothers had dared him to get the words “FUCK U-UP” written across his hands two years ago, although it hadn’t originally occurred to Mickey that he’d never be able to see if that was, in fact, what was written.  Ian had promised him that the words were there, occasionally tracing over the lettering when he thought Mickey was sleeping. He never was, but Mickey never stopped him, either.

 

“Not quite ‘flaming’ but it’s bri—“ Ian began, interrupted by Mickey’s lips on his own, instinctively parting his to invite tongues to do their infamous dance. The kiss deepened fast, becoming sloppier and desperate and their breathing grew ragged and sweat resurfaced on their skin. Mickey pulled away teasingly, dragging Ian’s bottom lip between his teeth.

 

“Sounds hot to me. Probably a little alien-lookin’, but I ain’t complaining. Not that I could, could I, _Firecrotch_?” he responded playfully. He pushed Ian on his back in order to straddle his hips. His arms were propped on either side of Ian’s head as he waited for a reply, sensing out any possible clues into what the kid underneath him was thinking.

 

Without hesitation, Ian cupped the sides of Mickey’s face from below, pulling him back down to capture his warm mouth one more time. He ground his hips up into Mickey, getting dangerously close to unraveling at the sound of the boy’s moans vibrating on his lips, then pulled away just as seductively as Mickey had done. They were mere centimeters apart as he whispered the word “never,” across his now flushed face, holding Mickey’s face firm in his strong hands.

 

So he definitely had a thing for redheads—whatever that looked like—but he still had the feeling firecrotches were harder to come by. Under the control of Ian’s steady and concentrated movements, Mickey got as close to seeing colors as he could comprehend, their bodies scorching with heat under every light touch and daring stroke. As Mickey placed his palms on Ian’s chest for stability, Ian lit the match that set the boy’s body ablaze.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I made a small reference to Archie and the classic American comic series but if you're unfamiliar, some brief info can be found [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archie_Andrews_\(comics\)) and [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jughead_Jones).
> 
>  
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> You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.thedailygiggy.tumblr.com)


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